


2017

by vonhosselfratt



Category: Will & Grace
Genre: Gen, Other, pure friendship fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-03 10:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonhosselfratt/pseuds/vonhosselfratt
Summary: [Set in the universe where Ben and Laila exist] Inspired by the upcoming Will & Grace revival, Will and Grace are once again (temporarily) roommates in Apartment 9C. And Jack and Karen are...Jack and Karen. Headcanons galore.





	1. Chapter 1

“WILL!” Grace shrieks, slamming the door to Apartment 9C shut. “You. Will. Not. Believe. What. Just. Happened!”

Will winces, and motions towards the phone in his hand. “I’m on the phone,” he hisses. “And stop using so many periods in your sentences, you’re in your forties.”

“Mention my age again and I’ll kill you,” Grace replies without missing a beat, pulling off her jacket and throwing it beside her onto the ground.

She blinks.

“You’ve moved the coat rack,” she says simply.

Will purses his lips. “Yeah, in the eight years you’ve been away, we’ve moved the coat rack exactly two inches to the left. I know, this must all be so overwhelming for you.”

“Okay, look, I don’t have time for your sarcasm. The most _traumatic thing_ just happened to me and I need to vent before I explode.”

“Can it wait? I’m still sorta on the phone, I … _yeah, yeah, I miss you too. Like crazy. How’s Vermont?_ ” Will smiles into the phone.

Grace grunts and pushes past him to the refrigerator, pulling out a Coke and cracking it open loudly. “Who’s that?” she says lazily.

“Ben,” Will replies. “You know, my son?”

“Oh, _Ben!_ How’s he doing? How’s fat camp?” she smiles.

Will glares at her. “He’s not at fat camp. He’s at _band camp_.”

“Oh, really? ‘Cause he seemed a little chubby last time I saw him.”

“He’s not chubby, he’s _husky_ and he got it from his mother,” Will snaps. “. _..Wow, that’s great, Ben, I’m so proud of_...oh you heard that?”

“You know, we really should get Ben and Laila together for a playdate. It’s insane that they haven’t met yet,” Grace ponders.

“No, no, I didn’t say _husky_ , I said…” Will sighs, holding the phone to his chest. “Great, now my son hates me. Thanks, Grace.”

“They all get like that at their age. Once I insulted Justin Bieber and Laila didn’t speak to me for _two weeks_ ,” Grace says idly, taking a sip of coke.

“ _Call you tomorrow, sport, okay? Oh, you don’t like sport? How about kiddo? Son? Okay, okay, just Ben. Call you soon, Ben._ ” Will hangs up. He looks across at Grace. “Do you think it’s weird that he never wants to FaceTime with me?”

“I’m going to save you the embarrassment and pretend you didn’t just ask that question.” Grace says. “Anyway, you will not _believe_ what just happened to me. So I’m in Lucky Noodle. You know, buying noodles.”

“As one does.”

“And I’m standing in the line in front of these weird hipster kids. Is that the right word? Hipster? You know the ones with the pashminas and the flannel and the William Howard Taft mustaches?”

“I don’t know, Grace, I stopped trying to keep up with subcultures after Goths came out.”

“Anyway, I’m trying to decide between the Deluxe Noodle Box or the Family Fun Fiesta box, which is essentially the same except it’s twice as big but without the extra soy sauce and pork on the side, but you get a large Pepsi, so-”

“Grace.”

“Sorry, sorry, moving on - Jack calls me because he needs to borrow my Stetson hat because he’s auditioning for a two-episode arc on _Westworld._ While I’m on the phone, these hipster kids push in front of me. And I’m like, _Hey, you can’t just push in line!_ But they don’t hear me because they’ve got their headphones in, and the volume’s turned way up, and when I finally get their attention, they’re all like, _You snooze, you lose_ . And then when I finally get to the counter, they’re all out of forks, and the cashier is like _Do you mind eating with your hands?_  And I’m all like, _Lady, I wasn’t raised in the jungle, I was raised in Schenectady and in Schenctady we eat noodles with forks!_ And just when I’m threatening to boycott, these hipster _toddlers_ start filming me on their smartphones because apparently they have nothing better to do than to mock my pain and so I finally take my noodles and run because I don’t want to become an overnight viral sensation because my eyebrows aren’t even done…”

She stops to take a breath.

“And so I call for an Uber, and when I get inside, who is the Uber driver but _Mr. Zamir. Mr, Zamir!_ And I start tucking into my noodles and he’s all like, _You can’t eat in the cab_ , _it’s the rules_ . And I’m like, Mr Zamir, you’ve been stealing our newspapers for twenty years now, you’re not exactly in a position to complain about rules. And while I’m dealing with _that_ , I look down at my noodles at what do I find? _A toenail,_ Will. _A toenail i_ n my noodles.”

“Wait, so that’s the climax of this story? A nail?”

“A _toenail_. Floating in my noodles.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a fingernail?”

“I’m not an idiot, Will. I know the difference between a fingernail and a toenail. It was just so gross. I swear, from now on, we are only eating at places with at _least_ three stars on Yelp.”

“This is all coming from a woman who ate a peanut she found under a chair at the DMV.”

Grace shakes her head, shuddering.

“I swear, after living in exotic places like _Rome_ and _Florence_ and _Cambodia_ …”

“ _Cambodia_?”

“I guess I just forgot how _gross_ and _dirty_ New York is. It’s going to take me a while to get used to how sleazy it is here  _Ugh._ Do you mind if I just…” she reaches behind her back. “Take off my bra?”

“Grace, it isn’t 1998 anymore. You actually _need_ bras now.”

“...Are you _body-shaming_ me, Will?”

“Oh, brother.”

“Because I read an article on BuzzFeed that women are constantly being body-shamed by gay men. Wait, I’ll send you a link…”

“Fine, fine, take off your bra. Just...don’t knock anything over. God, those things are huge now. Are you sure you haven’t had anything done?”

Grace preens, sticking out her chest.

“They grew after I had Laila, and I guess they just never went down.”

“Some call it magic, some call it years of take-out noodles and neglected gym memberships.”

“Aaand you’re body shaming me again.” Grace scowls. “No, but really, Will. I’m freaked out about this toenail thing. Will you come down with me and use your...big fancy-pants lawyer talk to get me a refund?”

“Sure, Grace, but we might need some circumstantial evidence. Where’s the noodles?”

“The what?”

“You know. The noodles. With the finger- with the _toenail?”_

“Oh, I...uh…”

“You ate them, didn’t you?”

“They smelt so _good,_ Will!”

“God, Grace, you came storming in here bemoaning your story like a PTSD sufferer and you actually ate the toenail?”

“Don’t be gross, Will. I ate _around_ it.”

Will sighs. “It’s weird, I’ve been sharing a house with two members of the male species for the past ten years, and yet neither of them _combined_ can come close to your brand of disgustingness.”

“You missed me, didn’t you,” Grace smirks.

“Like a toothache,” Will smiles.

“Well...thanks for letting me crash here while Leo’s in Yemen and Laila’s in boarding school. It was getting so lonely by myself.”

“That’s okay, Grace. But don’t call it ‘crashing’. This place is just as much home to you as it is to me.”

“Aw, Will…”

“I mean it, Grace. You walk in without knocking, you eat all my food, you rip off your underwear and gets crumbs all over my five thousand dollar couch. It’s like you never left.”

They smile wistfully at each other.

“I can’t believe it’s been ten years. We’ve grown, haven’t we?”

“...Your chest, yes. The rest of you; exactly the same.”

“So, do you wanna pop some popcorn and Netflix and chill?”

“...Grace, that doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“What are you talking about, what else could it possibly…”

“Trust me. I’m friends with Jack. I know these things.”

“Ah.”

“...Speaking of Jack,” Will adds. “How’d his _Westworld_ audition go?”

“Oh, it went great!” Grace says. “In fact, they liked him so much, they fired James Marsden and now they’re making him the new hot male lead.”

“Uh-huh. How’d it really go?”

“Went terrible. He’s outside at Jacques sobbing into my Stetson as we speak,” she pouts. “Poor guy.”

“Eh, it’s nothing that a Grindr hookup can’t fix. So, wanna go watch re-runs of _ER_?” Will suggests, turning around to take out the popcorn.

“Always.”

“Isn’t it _crazy_ that George Clooney is still a bachelor?”

“What are you talking about, he’s married with twi-”

“Don’t ruin this for me, Grace.”

“Got it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“My new headshots just arrived. You like?” 

Jack presents two photos to the man who slides awkwardly into the chair opposite him at the coffee shop table. The man studies the pictures for a while, before sliding a coffee to Jack.

“I guess.”

“But which do you  _ prefer _ ?”

“I don’t know, Dad. They’re both kinda looking the same.”

Jack exhales in frustration.

“Okay,  _ this _ one showcases my sincere angelic sensibilities - and my striking baby blues- and  _ this  _ one,” he shakes the left photo, “showcases my sullen broodiness with a tasteful hint of vampiric sex appeal. God, Elliot, don’t you have eyes?”

“I...you know what, I  _ totally _ see it now,” Elliot relents, nodding while taking a sip of coffee.    
“Well, enough about me,” Jack says, resting a head on two interlocked hands. “What’s going on with you, Elliot? How are things?”

“Uh, well, work’s great. And it’s my birthday this month, so…”

“Oh yeah, I  _ forgot _ . What are you, now? Eighteen, nineteen?” Jack guesses.

“Dad, I’m turning thirty.”

“...What? You’re sure?”

“...Yes?” Elliot says, bemused. 

“...Oh, my poor dear. How you must feel.” Jack sighs.

“I feel fine,” Elliot says.

“I remember when I turned thirty. I was a wreck for about a week.”

“Really? I’m pretty okay about it.”

Jack eyes his son wearily.

“Well, I suppose it’s because you’re straight. Thirty is  _ so  _ much older in gay years.” 

Jack looks over Elliot’s shoulder and his eyes light up.

“Ooh, Karen’s here! Move over,” he hisses to Elliot, ushering him aside. 

Karen waltzes in, stopping at their table.

“Hey poodle.”

“Hey Kare-Bear. Who’s your daddy?”

“You are.”

They give each other a peck on the lips, while Elliot frowns.

“I can’t believe you guys still do that,” he observes.

Karen scowls at him.

“Jackie, why is our waiter sitting on his ass making rude comments rather than getting me my usual order of Americano with eight shots of tequila?” She takes a seat, glaring. “Honestly, your generation is a disgrace.” She roots around her handbag, pulls out her liquor bottle and downs it in one gulp, throwing it beside her onto the ground with a clatter. 

“Actually, Karen, this is my son, Elliot. You remember Elliot, don’t you?” Jack says sweetly. 

“Yeah, remember? We uh, we crank-called Marlo Thomas together?” Elliot reminds her. “And I played with the manse’s X-box that one time?”

Karen considers for a moment.

“I don’t remember you playing with my X-Box. Exactly how heavily sedated was I at the time?”

“No, no, it’s a games console,” Elliot explains. 

Karen throws back her head and cackles.

“ _ Games console _ ,” she smiles, wiping a tear from her eyes. “You millennials have hilarious slang for everything these days, I’ll give you that.”

Jack harrumphs impatiently.

“Okay, guys, back to me,” he says through gritted teeth. “I’m thinking of auditioning for this new pilot on HBO. It’s about a swashbuckling seventeenth-century swordsman who time travels to modern day New York City and must adjust to the harsh, bustling fish-out-of-water city life.”

“Okay…” Karen says. “And I assume you’ll be playing the fish?”

Jack stares at her incredulously. 

“Uh, no! Haven’t you been reading my blog?”

“...Sweetie, I don’t read  _ blogs _ .”

“Elliot, what about you? You’ve been reading my life updates on  _ JustJack _ dot com?”

“Oh, about that...the site doesn’t seem to be working.” Elliot says sheepishly.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? It’s been down for years. I type it into the web address bar, and it just...doesn’t load. There’s just a spinning loading animation that goes on forever.”

“Wha- I...years, you say?” Jack bemoans. 

“I think you need to contact your domain provider or something.”

“I can’t do that. My mom set it up for me…” Jack sighs. “Never mind. Anyway, I’m auditioning for this pilot and I really want to get into that deep, brooding persona. I don’t want to get dubbed again like that disaster that was  _ The Badge _ .”

“Oh, I love that show,” Elliot says. “I think it’s just starting its eleventh season.”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started on Josh Lucas. He’s dead to me.” Jack hisses. “He stole that role from right under my feet.”

“Didn’t you quit that role?” Karen remembers.

“Only under the protest they let me keep my voice.  _ Which _ they didn’t. It was so insulting. Why couldn’t detective Chuck Rafferty, amateur sleuth and womanizer, have had my voice?”

“I guess there was no room on the market for another womanizing twink.”

“ _ Ig _ noring you.” Jack snaps at Karen. 

“I actually think you’d bring something really fresh to television,” Elliot says. “I mean, a gay Zorro? I think that would get great reviews.”

“Honey, no-one would watch a _ gay Zorro.  _ What’s next, an immortal bisexual, sociopathic alcoholic slash drug addict millionaire secretary who used to be a boy?” Karen cackles. “I don’t think so. That’s just a  _ little _ too PC for my liking.”

“You’re right, Kare, that would be strange. But no, I really think I can do this one. What do you think, guys?”

“Well, sure, Dad. Do you know anything about swordfighting?” 

“Elliot Lastname!” Karen gasps. “What an  _ inappropriate _ question to ask your own father!”

“I...uh...swordfighting? With swords?” Elliot makes an awkward sword fighting motion with his hands.

“Oh  _ that  _ kind of swordfighting? I thought you meant the  _ other _ kind.”

“Wait, me too,” Jack says, picking up the casting call notice and examining it closer. “I didn’t think there’d be actual  _ weapons _ . I don’t want to damage my facial area, I need it for dramatic close-ups.”

“Okay, I think this is my cue to leave,” Elliot finishes his coffee and stands up. “It was great seeing you, Dad.”

“You too, Elliot. Remember - thirty, flirty and thriving!”

“...Thanks.”

As Elliot leaves, Karen’s eyes follow him out the door. She turns to Jack.

“I like him,” she says. “He has your butt.”

Jack scoffs.

“Yeah, he wishes.”


End file.
